


Drink Order

by Hannah



Category: Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-10
Updated: 2011-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah/pseuds/Hannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was right behind oil in the global commodities market.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemmi999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmi999/gifts).



_Thank god for boots, thank god for boots._ The light changed and Andy sped across the avenue, trying to ignore the cabs’ honks. Running in high heels wasn’t her strong suite even with practice. Maybe this was the secret at Runway – all the running to get everywhere and never being calm enough to eat anything. She’d skipped breakfast and her stomach rumbled when she opened the door and the muffins hit her right in the face but she pushed that down. She couldn’t stomach anything right now, not even cinnamon-blueberry.

There was a Starbucks down the block and right across the street but the best one was two blocks south. Every Starbucks tasted the same but this was the only one that got it as hot as Miranda wanted it – _center-of-the-sun hot, remember,_ Emily echoed – and if she ran she’d get back at the same time if she’d gone to the one closer. Maybe it was the machines, there might be better ones here than in the others she’d tried. Or maybe it was the baristas. She tried not to bounce up and down before someone finally called her name and handed the tray over the counter. She grabbed it and almost fell over right when she reached for the door to push it open when someone pulled it out to come in, and stumbled forward two steps and hitting her heels on the sidewalk when she tried to stop. She had to hold still a moment to get her balance and check the cups to make sure nothing had spilled out.

And the woman clearly had time to waste since she stopped to ask Andy, “You okay?”

“Not really!” She threw back over her shoulder. Looking up and down and across the street, nothing coming, right-foot-left-foot go go go. Through the doors and the lobby and it was the waiting that made the errands hard, at least when she was moving she felt like she was getting something done.

She whispered “Thank you” when the elevator dinged open right when she pressed the button; maybe it was listening because it didn’t stop on the way up. Hey, if the baristas like getting thanked once in a while, why not the elevator? Miranda wasn’t in when Andy got to the office, and that was worth another “thank you” to no one in particular.

There was always coffee in the break rooms and kitchens, freshly-brewed pots of black gold every morning, refilled twice a day at minimum. It was right behind oil in the global commodities market. And some days it was all anyone could handle in their stomachs around here. Emily had nodded in approval when Andy started drinking it black – there wasn’t sugar or milk around, not even skim – and told her she’d need a good mouthwash to keep her teeth fresh. She poured herself a mug’s worth and it burned her tongue but she gulped it down anyway, wiping her mouth off and sighing before pouring one for Emily.

 _The coffee diet! Ruin your stomach, kill your pancreas, look great on the job._

 _And maybe I can add ‘coffee shop appraisal’ to my résumé._

  


  
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